


Cold

by Castiel_For_King



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Heavy Angst, I wrote this while listening to In The Arms of an Angel on repeat, Spoilers for S11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:03:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5064025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_For_King/pseuds/Castiel_For_King
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is finally free of Rowena's spell and Dean is finally free of the Mark...but Cas is cold and Dean can't warm him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold

In the moment, in the  _rush_ and  _panic_ of it all, Cas had opened his eyes and they’d been that deep, dark, sea-blue that Dean always remembered.  Cas had looked at him and had actually  _seen_ him; the rabid, frenzied fog had finally been gone from his gaze.  There had finally been a light at the end of Dean’s dark, shitty, tunnel and he’d blindly latched on to it, wanting  _so fucking hard_  for it to all be over, wanting to go back to the bunker - back  _home_ \- and maybe make some burgers for his brother and his angel and finally catch up on the last three seasons of Game of Thrones.  For a moment he’d felt free.  Free of the Mark, free of Rowena’s hold on Cas…free to be  _normal_ for just a few days before they had to start all over.  Before they had to start thinking about the Darkness and wondering if they were going to live through the next year.

It was only after they’d all gotten back to the silence and stillness of the bunker that Dean realized Cas wasn’t as ok as he’d first thought.

It hadn’t really occurred to him at first, to wonder why Cas had hardly said a word once the spell had been lifted, he’d just been so fucking  _relieved_  to see that crazy look gone from his eyes.  But even under the soft light of old bulbs, Cas was too pale, like there wasn’t a drop of blood left in him.  His eyes were clear, but he stared straight ahead, exhaustion evident in every line of his body; blinks were slow and far between and it took Dean calling his name three times before Cas raised his eyes from the floor, his gaze flicking sluggishly around the room before it landed on Dean.

Sam was beside him, looking worried.  

“Cas…”  Sam started.  "Do…do you know where you are?“

Dean wanted to scoff at the absurdity of the question, but found his throat was clogged and tight with worry - which turned to panic when Cas’ gaze simply drifted away without an answer.

"I’m tired,”  Cas muttered listlessly, looking lost in the largeness of the room around him.

Dean swallowed, hearing Sam drag a hand down his face.  

“Yeah, ok.  We can just…you can sleep, ok?”  Dean told the angel quietly, approaching him from the side, slowly enough for Cas to realize he was there.  He let his hand rest heavily on Cas’ shoulder, squeezing a little, trying to get him to look up from the floor.

But Cas' eyes were drooping where he stood and when he wavered, Dean grabbed his arm to steady him - then let his hand slip down to grab Cas’, offering what he hoped was a steady smile when Cas finally looked up at him.  

He felt anything but steady, wondering how the fuck he was going to be strong enough to hold Castiel up, but knowing he had to figure it out soon because he knew better than anyone that just because someone was standing right in front of you didn’t mean you couldn’t still lose them.  He wouldn’t let Cas go now - not when they were so close -  _so fucking close_ …

For a long time there hadn’t even  _been_ a light at the end of Dean’s tunnel, just the promise of more darkness, but when Cas had looked up at him without the fog of the spell scrambling his mind and Dean was able to look back without the thrumming, digging, barbs of the Mark leeching into his blood, light had suddenly flared far, far up ahead of him.  It was a long ways away, but it was still  _there_.  Like a beacon in the dark, urging him to just take a few more steps, to just fight a little longer.

“I’m tired,”  Cas repeated in a whisper.

Dean’s chest ached.  "I know.  Come on, Cas.“

He didn’t look at Sam when they passed, only led the angel deeper into the bunker, wondering how a creature that was made of light could have such cold hands.

Cas stood in the middle of Dean’s room, gaze on the floor again like his line of sight was too heavy to hold aloft, and he barely moved at all while Dean carefully took off his coat and suit jacket and guided him over to the bed to sit down.  He pulled off Cas’ boots and looked up from where he was kneeling on the floor, his breath catching in his throat when he found Cas looking back at him, his blue eyes a fraction sharper.

"You are so bright sometimes,” Cas murmured, like he was talking to himself.   “It almost hurts to look at you…like looking into the sun.”

Dean swallowed, his gut twisting for a hundred different reasons, and reached up to touch the back of his hand to Cas’ forehead.  It was cold, like the rest of him.  Unaturally cold.  That wasn’t right.  Angel’s burn  _hot_.  Cas had  _always_ been warm - his skin was always a perfectly sun-kissed gold, his blue eyes were always alight with a passionate flame.  He was restrained energy and fiery attitude… _that’s_ who Castiel was.

But he was pale now and his eyes were dull and his skin was cold under Dean’s hand and it wasn’t right at all.  The spell was gone but it was like it had ripped a chunk of Cas out with it.

He pushed at Cas’ shoulders, swallowing around the hard lump in his throat.  Cas laid back on the bed, pliant and docile, his gaze glassy again - like a doll.

Dean quickly stripped down to his jeans and tshirt and settled onto the bed behind Cas, not caring what it might look like or what it might mean because Cas was cold and Dean needed to fix it.  He pressed his chest to Cas’ back and pulled the blankets up to their shoulders, wedging one arm between Cas’ neck and the pillow and wrapping the other around the angel’s front, squeezing him close in a crushing hug.  

“I’m so tired,”  Cas whispered again, his voice shuddering from his chest, like he was confessing a sin.

“ _Sleep_ , Cas.”  Dean’s voice shook against the back of Cas’ neck.  He tired to move closer, tangled their legs, tried to give some of his heat to the cold body pressed against him.  "It’s ok, I’ll…I’ll watch over you.  Sleep, ok?  Just…just sleep.“  _Rest.  Get better.  Let me help you get warm again…_

Cas slept and Dean didn’t  He stayed awake through the night, trying not to feel the coldness growing between their bodies, pushing away Dean’s warmth faster than he could produce it.  He refused to shiver, refused to acknowledge it - only clutched Castiel closer while he ignored the light sputtering like a dying flame at the end of that long, dark tunnel.


End file.
